


If I Catch Fire Then I'll Change My Aim

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Biting, But consensual, Choking, Cock & Ball Torture, Cunnilingus, F/M, Face Slapping, Finger Sucking, Hinted at Doctor/Yaz, Impact Play, Masochism, Sadism, Scratching, Spoilers for Episode: s12e10 The Timeless Children, Vulva Biting, foot play, not necessarily safe or sane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:49:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23087302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: "You should hurt me," the Master said, looking over at the Doctor from his place on the floor."Hurt you?" The Doctor frowned, and she looked up from the jigsaw puzzle she had been working on. "Why?"It was a stupid question. She knew it was a stupid question, as soon as it left her mouth, and she hated the way his face opened up in delight, his eyes crinkling up at the sides.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 98





	If I Catch Fire Then I'll Change My Aim

**Author's Note:**

  * For [listlessness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/listlessness/gifts).



> Title from _Burning Pile_ by Mother Mother. 
> 
> This is pretty much shameless porn. Hope you enjoy it, darling! <3

"You should hurt me," the Master said, looking over at the Doctor from his place on the floor.

"Hurt you?" The Doctor frowned, and she looked up from the jigsaw puzzle she had been working on. "Why?"

It was a stupid question. She knew it was a stupid question, as soon as it left her mouth, and she hated the way his face opened up in _delight_ , his eyes crinkling up at the sides. 

"Because I killed our entire planet," he said, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. "You should kill me for it, honestly, not just hurt me, but I know you're a bit too soft hearted." 

The Doctor clenched her jaw, made sure she wasn't clenching her fist. She'd damage the puzzle piece if she did that. She'd done it before, and then she had to take bits of other puzzles to finish the one she was working on, and it always looked silly. He probably did it on purpose, to mess with her head. He was petty like that. 

"Why do you want me to hurt you?" the Doctor repeated, and she met his eyes, tried to look like she wasn't impacted by what he said. Her other hand was on her leg, fingers digging into her thigh. She wanted to punch him in his handsome, smug face. It wasn't fair, that he was so handsome, this go 'round. There had been a sweetness to O, a shyness that had made the Doctor want to draw him out, see what he could be. The Master's face was cunning, and there was a sharpness to his gaze that pinned her to the spot like an insect on a card.

"Something to do," the Master said idly, and he stretched out on the rug, as indolent and comfortable looking as a cat. The t-shirt she'd given him rode up over his belly, and she could see the thin line of dark hair trailing down into the waistband of the sweatpants he was wearing. "I'm _bored_. You don't let me do anything fun."

"You were perfectly happy when you were locked in the vault," the Doctor said, and she rested her chin on her hands, looking down at him. He wouldn't sit at the table with her and play cards or board games, didn't want to do any puzzles, didn't have any interest in paint. The inhibitor she'd put in his brain (and the shock collar around his neck) kept him from doing anything especially dangerous to her or himself, but she still didn't trust him enough to let him have a fork or a paintbrush. 

"I had some hope of redemption then," said the Master, and he rolled over, stretching. "Besides, this body just wants to _do_. I'm going to chafe, if I keep this up." He looked at her, upside down, and he winked. 

The Doctor felt her eyes trail down to the tent at the crotch of his sweatpants, and then back to his face. She saw him smirking, and she looked down at her puzzle, her cheeks getting darker. He liked to make her uncomfortable, and she knew that he liked to make her uncomfortable, and yet she still managed to let him make her uncomfortable. "How do you want me to hurt you?" She kept her tone bored.

"Well, you're creative," said the Master, and he put his hands behind his head, shimmying around until his feet were on the beat up purple sofa she'd put in here with him. "Think of something." 

The Doctor sighed, flopping back in her chair. The rustle of her coat seemed especially loud, considering how much the room they were in absorbed sound. 

The TARDIS had decided to furnish the Master's... rooms (it wasn't a cell, _exactly_ , and also wasn't a cell) like a finished basement out of an American sitcom, complete with dark red shag carpeting and fake looking wood paneling. There wasn't anything he could really hurt himself with, but there was a faintly oppressive air to the whole place.

Maybe it was a sign of passive aggression, although the TARDIS was usually a lot less subtle with that. 

"If you want me to hurt you," she said to the Master, "we're going to do this safely." 

The Master actually _pouted_ , and it was a properly dramatic pout, sticking out his lower lip and making his eyes all big and shiny. Not only was he handsome with this face, but he knew how to manipulate it in new, interesting ways. An image rose up in her mind, and she flushed. She imagined meeting his eyes over the rise of her stomach, framed by her thighs. That full, pouting mouth, pressed against her cunt, his stubble rubbing the delicate skin of her vulva. 

The Doctor snapped out of the daze, and she glared at him. “Stay out of my head,” she snapped, “or I’ll leave you here by yourself.”

A look of genuine panic crossed across the Master’s face. “No,” he blurted out. “Don’t go.” It must have been intense, if he let it all show across his face like that. 

She raised an eyebrow. “Then behave yourself,” she said, and she smoothed her hands along the front of her coat. She didn’t want to admit to just how much that image he’d sent her had impacted, although it helped to know that he had resorted to sending her dirty messages. It was better than… well, a whole lot of other things he could be trying to plant in her mind. Her defenses were good, and all he could do was metaphorically draw graffiti on it. 

Pretty compelling graffiti, admittedly. 

“So I take it you won’t hurt me,” the Master said, and he was pouting again. He ran a hand over his face absently, and she could hear the rasp of his stubble. 

“I’ll hurt you,” the Doctor said, and she stood up, dusting off her hands, then shrugging out of her coat. “But safely.” She rubbed her hands together, looking down at him (much more down, now that she was standing up and he was lying flat on his back). 

“You take the fun out of everything,” he complained, and he rolled onto his stomach, snatched a hand out and wrapped it around her bare ankle. 

“I don’t have to do anything,” she pointed out to him, and she prodded him in the face with her bare foot. 

He squeezed her ankle, and then he leaned up further, until he could rub his bare face against the sole of her bare foot. It was ticklish and _strange_ , in a way that made shivers run up and down her back. “You could tie me up in some dungeon,” he murmured, and his voice was ticklish across the sensitive skin. “Chain me to a wall, feed me rats. Not really your style, but you seem to be discovering more sides of yourself lately, aren’t you?” Before she had a chance to react, his tongue darted out, and he was _licking her foot_.

The Doctor made a startled noise, nearly overbalanced, and yanked her foot away. She didn’t bother asking him why he’d done it, because who knew why he did anything. At least he hadn’t bitten her. He had been trying to see just how far he could take it, before he got shocked or dosed with pain. 

“None of that,” she snapped, and she took a step back. 

“Are you going to punish me for it?” The Master looked up at her, fluttered his eyelashes coquettishly like a movie starlet. 

“I’m not going to hurt you more because I’m mad at you,” the Doctor said, and she crossed her arms, still looking down at him. If she hurt him in anger, she’d probably kill him. “Do you want me to do this here, or in your bedroom?” She indicated the open door in the corner. She shouldn’t have been entertaining this in the first place, this was an exceedingly bad idea. 

“The bedroom? How very _intimate_ , Doctor,” the Master said, and he was smirking. He sat up, and he rested his elbows on his thighs. “Don’t you worry about what this might do to my reputation?”

She kept looking at him, and he snorted. “Here is fine,” he said, “unless you’re worried the setting is… unsuitable?” He smirked. 

She paused, looking him up and down, doing some mental calculations. “If I’m going to hurt you,” she said, “this is going to be a one way street. And you’re going to tell me if you’ve had too much.”

“Are you going to ask for a safeword next?” He rolled his eyes, and he pulled his shirt up and off. She very pointedly did _not_ look at the thick hair along his pectorals, the way his muscles shifted under his skin. 

“I trust you to be an adult about this,” she said, although she didn’t, not really. This was a horrible idea. She was unfastening her braces now, and the Master’s eyes flicked over her. He licked his lips, and she was very resolutely _not_ blushing. Not that she could keep the blood from filling her cheeks, but if she told herself sternly that she wasn’t embarrassed, it would come true, right?

“We’re all adults here,” the Master said, and he was grinning like a cat in a way that made her hands itch. There were some… implications, but she was pointedly ignoring them. 

“I’m tying your hands up,” she told him. “Put ‘em behind your head.” 

“Do you not trust me, Doctor? I’m _hurt_.” He was feeling cooperative, at least. That was progress. That he was asking in the first place was progress. She didn’t know what it was progressing towards, exactly, but it was… something. 

She didn’t say anything - she tied his hands up efficiently, using her braces. The knots were tight enough to keep him in place, but wouldn’t cut off his circulation. It had been a very long time since she’d done this sort of thing with someone who wasn’t human - she had to remember that he was hardier than she was used to at this point. When she was done, his fingers were interlaced, and the palms of his hands were pressed into the back of his head. She took a step back to admire her handiwork. 

“Are you going to hurt me _now_?” There was a whining, wheedling note in the Master’s voice that made the Doctor grit her teeth. How was he always so able to get under her skin? All those years of pulling each other’s pigtails, and here they were. 

Instead of saying anything, she drew her leg back, carefully. She kicked him in the thigh, and he made a surprised noise, falling over sideways. “Is that what you had in mind? You’re looking a little startled.” She gave him another kick. 

He was giggling. It was that same giggle like someone scratching glass, and it gave her the creeps. She kicked him again, then shoved him flat on his back with her foot. She used her heel this time, and the muscle gave under her foot in a satisfying shockwave.

If only he’d stop _giggling_. 

Another kick, and another. She went for the meaty parts of his legs, covered by the grey fabric of the sweatpants, and he made a desperate, needy noise in the back of his throat, and the giggling turned into full throated laughter, his head thrown back and his mouth wide open. He was taking deep, gasping breaths, and she rested her foot under his chin, pressing down just hard enough that she could feel his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed. The arch of her foot matched the curve of his throat, and she pressed down a little harder.

“Do it, Doctor,” he said, and his voice vibrated up her leg, tickling her skin. “Stomp down, kill me the way you know you want to.” More laughter, although it turned to more wheezing as she pressed down a little harder. He was so _fragile_ from this angle, fragile in body and not just in mind. He stared up at her with his big wet eyes, his chest heaving, and then he groaned as she pressed down a little harder. “You want me dead, don’t you?” 

The Doctor got up off of his chest, and she nudged him in the side with her bare foot. “Sit up,” she said.

"Didn't answer my question," the Master said, staying flat on his back.

The Doctor got on her knees, and she pulled the Master upright, onto his knees. She didn't look into his eyes - didn't want to see whatever might be reflected there. She drew her hand back, and she slapped him on the chest, hard enough that it reverberated up her arm, all the way to her head. Her palm was starting to throb, as she landed another slap, and it matched the throb that was beginning to pick up between her legs. 

The Master hissed through his teeth, and he threw his head back. His eyes were shut tightly, and his fingers seemed to be gripping his hair that much tighter. When she glanced down, she saw that he was hard, with a wet spot leaking out of the head of his cock, staining the grey fabric. 

She wasn't sure if it disgusted her, or aroused her. The combination of the two was writhing in her guts like a bag of snakes, and she landed another, harder hit to stave it off. She wasn't going to think of it like that, wasn't going to think of _him_ like that. 

"You should kill me," he said. "Kill me, so you can continue the last of your noble Last of the Timelords nonsense." Then he giggled, and he was laughing again as she hit him, right over the nipple. He hissed, but kept laughing. "But you're not a Timelord at all, are you?" 

"Shut up," the Doctor said, and she could feel the rage beginning to bubble up in the back of her throat. 

"All of those prophecies, about the Hybrid, about the Timeless Child, all those different things that made you _special_ , and it turns out that you're even more of a freak and an outcast than you knew." The Master was swaying from side to side, and his face was the very picture of merriment. 

"Shut up," the Doctor repeated. It wasn't going to do any good, but at least she'd know that she'd tried. 

"Or what? You won't kill me, Doctor," the Master said. "We both know you won't kill me, no matter how much I beg." All of the mirth left his face, replaced by a cold, furious blankness. "You're crueler than I'll ever be."

The Doctor turned him around. She didn't want to see his face, and his needling was beginning to get to her. Not that she would let him know that he was getting to her, she could never let him know that he was getting to her. Never give him any kind of opening, or he'd rip through it like a birthday present. She pressed his face into the cushions of the purple sofa, his knees digging into the carpet, and she surveyed the array of golden skin in front of her. 

He was still laughing, his shoulders shaking, and he made a startled noise when she brought her hand down onto his back. The _thud_ of it was very loud, and it cracked like a whip. He began to laugh harder, when she hit him again, and again. Her hands were heavy on his back, and he was curling forward, gasping and cackling into the cushions. He turned his head to the side, still giggling, and his arms twisted with him, the skin on his back bunching up. He was already beginning to get a little bit swollen, and hot to the touch. "I said to _hurt_ me, not give me a fucking back massage," he said, and he was laughing. 

The Doctor grabbed him by the hair, forcing his head back down into the cushions. She let go of him, to drag her nails across his back, and she was gratified by the noises he made. She did it again, and she watched the lines she scored into his back turn white, then pink, raising up. She slapped over it, and he _howled_. 

"Not so much of a massage, eh?" She scratched down viciously, down his back, along his ribs. She wasn't thinking when she leaned forward, just that her blood was singing. She sank her teeth into his shoulder, and he groaned deep in his chest. It vibrated up through her teeth, into her head. She was pressed up tightly against him now, her chest against his back. She let go, only to find a spot on his neck to bite, and she was _sucking_ as well, sucking hard enough that she could taste the metal of his blood.

He shuddered against her, and she brought her hands around to hold on to his chest, her palms pressed into his nipples, her fingers digging into his pectorals. She scratched his chest, and she bit his neck again, hard enough that she felt something like _crunch_ under her teeth. She was grinding her hips forward, and she couldn’t seem to stop, rutting against his arse the way she used to. She couldn’t deny the arousal that was curdling in her like bad milk, and she shivered, and bit him again, right under his left ear. His stubble was rough against her tongue, and he tasted like salt, like metal, like the fever bright madness that burned him up from the inside out. .

“You miss your cock,” the Master said, and his tone was solicitous. “Still haven’t given the new setup a road test, have you? Unless you’ve let the humans have a go. The one with the long hair and the big dark eyes, she’d be willing.” He chuckled like a drain. 

“You’re disgusting,” the Doctor mumbled into the skin of his neck. It was almost like a kiss. 

“You’re the one who’d fuck a human,” the Master retorted. “I know you’ve done it, you’re not subtle.” 

_You’ve done it too_ , he wanted to respond, but no. She wasn’t going to take the bait. She bit him again, on the other side this time, and he made a noise that made her whole body go tight, clenching around the aching emptiness deep inside of her. She pulled off with a pop, and she was still rutting against his arse.

“I could show you what to do with it,” the Master said, in a sing-song voice.”Loosen my hands up, I’ll make you come so hard you’ll forget I ever wiped out our species.” He giggled, and she grabbed him by the throat, squeezing him just under the Adam’s apple. 

She could feel the muscles in his throat shift under her hand, and she squeezed harder, the rage pounding in her ears with her hearts. Was that what it felt like, when he’d had the drums echoing through his head? Rage, rage that was so strong that she was half afraid it would swallow her whole. She pulled her hand off of his throat, and he took in a deep, wheezing breath. 

“Struck a nerve, did I?” He wriggled, pressing his arse against her front. “I remember you liking to fuck me, back in the day. Remember back in the Academy?” He was shoving an image at her mind, and maybe she was a little more open than usual, distracted by the taste of him. The memory of being buried inside of the Master, the two of them fucking in their dormitory. Overlaid with the memory of the two of them in the ruins of the Citadel. The thick, smothering scent of ashes mixing with the familiar sunshine, the two mixing together.

The Doctor pulled off of him, away from him. She grabbed him by the shoulder, and she spun him around again, so that he was facing her. She looked into his face, with its dancing eyes, and then she was hitting his face. It was a solid hit, the shock of it moving up her arm. He was smiling at her, and it would have been a _warm_ smile, a welcoming smile, except for whatever it was that his eyes were doing. “Stay out of my head,” she snarled, and she hated the way his smile got wider.

“Oh, Doctor,” he crooned, and sweat was pasting his hair to his head, sweat dripping down his face, along his chest, his sides. They had to sting on the scratches on his back and his chest.

_Good_.

She hit his face again, the rage freezing and burning inside of her. It was almost like she was disconnected from herself, as if she wasn’t the person doing it, but she was also inhabiting her body more than she ever had. As if this body was made for one thing, and that was to hurt the Master. 

She slapped his face hard enough that his head was turned sideways, and he was laughing again. “Not very safe, Doctor,” he said. “Not safe at all, aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” He leaned back , baring the long line of his torso, thrusting his cock forward in his sweatpants. 

The Doctor came back to herself, and she hit him again. It was what she wanted, more than anything else. She wanted to hurt him, she wanted to come, she wanted… she didn’t know what she wanted, except for it to never stop. 

“You’re as bad as I am,” the Master said, his voice delighted. “You want this. I know how much you want this.”

The Doctor stood up suddenly, because he was right. She needed to stop, because she liked it too much. Her toes curled in the thick carpeting, and she looked down at him, panting. Her trousers were going to fall down, if she wasn’t careful - they weren’t being held up anymore, and it would rather ruin the look of the thing if they fell down.

She wasn’t expecting the Master to lean forward, not breaking eye contact. He was pressing his face into her crotch, slow enough that she could have pulled away. She was going to. She was going to, any moment now, she just wanted to see what it was he was going to -

The Master gave a full body shudder when his nose reached the saturated fabric of her trousers, and the Doctor let out a little gasp. Her knees were going weak, as he nuzzled forward, his nose right up against her clit. She hadn’t really done much with all of that, not really - she’d been too distracted to masturbate, and for all that she appreciated Yaz’s hopeful looks, it would be a horrible idea to get together with a human.

(She was probably going to break that rule someday soon, the way she always did, but she could at least hold on to something like her dignity for a little while longer, before she inevitably succumbed). 

“You smell the same,” the Master said, and his voice was surprisingly quiet. “I’d know you anywhere.” He nuzzled into her, pressing his nose against her clit, and a little noise slid out of her, hovering in the air like smoke. “You should take them off,” he said. 

“I don’t trust you not to hurt me,” she said, which was true. Even with the inhibitor, he could still do a lot of damage.

“I promise I won’t,” he said, “and if I do, you can do whatever you want to me.” He paused, fluttering his eyelashes up at her. “Well,” he added, in a thoughtful tone of voice, “you could have done that anyway, couldn’t you?” 

She wasn’t sure what it was that sent the slow, deep pulse through her - the fact that he was acknowledging the power she had over him, the way his voice was vibrating against her most sensitive parts, the fact that she _wanted_ , she wanted in a way she hadn’t started wanting in this body. She took a step back from him, shoving her trousers down. She paused, looking at him appraisingly, and then she pushed her boxers down as well.

This was a horrible idea. Giving him access to her most vulnerable parts, doing what he asked, keeping him in her TARDIS, all of this was a horrible idea. A horrible idea, but she had to do _something_ with him, because he knew her the way nobody else did, ever would be able to.

Would be able to, because he’d killed everyone on their entire planet. An entire genocide, and then the further indignity of everything else he’d done to their dead. The fury that was washing through her almost knocked her off her feet, matched with the lust. She grabbed the hair on the top of his head, and she took a step closer to him, until the tip of his nose was just brushing against the hair covering her vulva. She looked down at him, and he looked up at her, smirking.

“And here I thought this would all be for me,” the Master simpered, and his breath was ticklish against her wet vulva. “You seem to be getting more out of it than I am.” He extended his tongue, and it traced along the line of her slit, then slid between them. 

“Oh, shut up,” she said, and she pressed her cunt closer to him, until he was forced to tilt his head back. She spread her legs a little wider, and then ended up with one knee over his shoulder, resting on both him and the couch. She liked the way he shuddered against her, and she gasped as his tongue went inside of her, his nose rubbing against her clit. 

The Master said something, but it was muffled by the Doctor’s vulva, and she shuddered as he began to suck on… something, she didn’t know all of what was going on down there. It was one thing to lie between someone’s legs and be able to document it all, with her fingers or her tongue or her fingers. It was quite another when it was all attached to her. She let herself get lost in the slickness of his tongue, the slickness of his mouth. She rolled her hips into it, grinding against him, and she let the sensations roll over her like a wave.

When his tongue found her clit, it was a bit like melting, and a bit like being wound up like a spring. He sucked on it, clumsily, and as he moved his mouth, his bearded chin rubbed against her labia, It was a prickling, ticklish tease, just enough discomfort to add to the tension that was building and building in her guts. She squeezed her eyes shut, her mouth falling open, and her knees starting shaking. 

She was going to come. She was going to come all over his face, and she was going to start crying if she wasn’t careful, there was a rush of emotions that seemed to be cresting along with the orgasm, and then he flicked across her clit with the very tip of his tongue, and she was coming, sweet pleasure throbbing through her, pulsing in time with her hearts. The pleasure was swiftly followed by more pain, a deep, aching pain, and it took her a moment to register what it was, before it was gone. 

_He bit me,_ she thought, and she stepped back from him again, trembling, grabbing between her legs and squeezing tightly. It _hurt_ , it hurt more than it had any right to, and he was sitting there, smug, a curly blond hair stuck to his chin. He licked his lips, and he smiled at her like a predator, all eye teeth and glinting malice. 

“You’re just so delicious,” the Master drawled. “I’d eat you up, if I could.”

She wasn’t thinking clearly - that was her excuse to herself, at any rate. She just wanted to _hurt_ him, hurt him the way he’d hurt her (she could never hurt him the way he’d hurt her, he could never hurt her the way she’d hurt him, it was just an endless cycle of hurting). She dropped to the floor in front of him, grabbing the waistband of the Master’s sweatpants and shoving it below the Master’s straining erection.

He moaned when it popped free, hitting him in the belly, and he looked from her face to her hand, which was wrapping around the shaft. “Well?” He waggled his eyebrows, probably in an attempt to indicate “get on with it” while his hands were still tied up.

The Doctor squeezed the Master’s cock, drawing back the foreskin. It was silky against her stinging palms, hot in that way that could only be found in a living cock. She was always surprised by the heat of them, even when she had her own, and she paused for a moment, letting herself feel it. It was thicker, compared to the last cock he’d had, and a little longer. She weighed it in her hand, and then she let go, drawing her hand back and hitting it across the shaft. 

The Master made a broken sound when she slapped it, trying to curl forward. She grabbed him by the throat, forcing him to sit up, and she squeezed her hand and slapped his cock again, a little harder this time. It bounced, and it throbbed visibly. His pulse was throbbing against her fingers, and she grabbed his cock, squeezed his throat, the same pressure in each hand. 

The muscles in his throat shifted under her hand, and he sobbed when she slapped his cock again, bringing her hand down. She liked the way he wasn’t able to shout, liked squeezing his throat and feeling the vibrations as he made whatever noises it was he was trying to make. She could only hear the pounding in her own ears, as she slapped him, again and again, letting go of his throat now and then so that he could take a little gasp of a breath, then squeezing it again, harder. 

His respiratory bypass was going to kick in soon, and she let go of his throat to shove her fingers into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue. She forced it into his throat, until he was gagging on it the way he’d gagged on her cock when she’d been a man, and she hit his cock again, then grabbed it, dragging her nails along the length of it. 

The Master made another gasping, choking noise, and then his cock was erupting, spitting thick, gooey come across her hand. He was moaning as his hips jerked forward awkwardly, and she wrinkled her nose, looking at the mess he’d made of her hand. She had his fluids all over her, and she pulled her hand away from his face, absurdly grateful he hadn’t bitten her.

“Well,” said the Master, and he was smirking, somehow managing to look smug with drool and slick down his chin and his dick out, “didn’t I tell you that you’d have fun?”

The Doctor made a disgusted noise, and she dragged her come covered hand across his cheek, spreading more of his mess across him. She stood up, her legs trembling, and she bent down to pull her trousers back up.

“Well?” The Master wriggled his hands against the back of his head. “Aren’t you going to untie me?”

“I’m sure you can figure it out yourself,” the Doctor said, and she was suddenly tired - too tired to put up with him, too tired to do anything but hold on to her trousers to keep them from falling down as she made her way to the bathroom.

“That isn’t very nice of you,” the Master called after her, and she could hear him wriggling to get out of the braces she’d wrapped around his wrists. He wouldn’t be able to hurt her with them, not with the protections she had in place, but… still. She probably shouldn’t have left him like that.

She seemed to be doing a lot of things she shouldn’t have. 

She closed the bathroom door behind her, leaning against it, and she sank down to the floor, the tile cool against her sweaty skin. She pressed her face into her hands, and she sobbed. Tears dripped down her face, splattered down into her lap, and her cunt throbbed, still oversensitive from the biting, from the orgasm. She cried as her hearts broke all over again, and she tried not to think about the thump on the other side of the door, or the way the light had changed, as if someone else was sitting in front of it as well. She held onto herself, and she wondered what it would take for things to be _different_.


End file.
